


the things I love

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airports, Author Dean, Cas is a dick and Dean is mad until he's not, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Professor Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sees it as soon as he sits down in the terminal waiting for his flight to board. It's his book cover staring back at him where some poor dude in a suit looks like he's having a coronary. </p><p>Dean grins to himself and looks down at his phone, debating whether or not he should say something. </p><p>The man reading his book makes a slightly indignant noise as his face scrunches up in disbelief at something in the book. He flips the page roughly and reads for a moment before he lets out an audible sigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the things I love

**Author's Note:**

> there was one of those "possible au" posts on tumblr and I saw the "author sees someone in the airport reading their book and enjoys their reactions" and this happened. title from the song ["(I always kill) the things I love" by claudia brucken & the real tuesday weld.](http://highdeans.tumblr.com/post/105286661113/claudia-brucken-the-real-tuesday-weld-i) find me, and this fic, at: highdeans.tumblr.com!
> 
> **warnings:** they are flying so there is a brief mention of dean taking a xanax to help keep himself calm. cas might seem slightly ooc to some people but I just kind of expanded on cas enjoying fucking with dean.

He sees it as soon as he sits down in the terminal waiting for his flight to board. It's his book cover staring back at him where some poor dude in a suit looks like he's having a coronary. 

Dean grins to himself and looks down at his phone, debating whether or not he should say something. 

The man reading his book makes a slightly indignant noise as his face scrunches up in disbelief at something in the book. He flips the page roughly and reads for a moment before he lets out an audible sigh.

His palpable relief startles a laugh out of Dean that's way too loud for the man sitting across from him not to notice. Sure enough, the man looks up at Dean levels him with a stare that could make serial killers shake in their boots.

Also, he may or may not be the hottest guy Dean's ever seen.

"Sorry," Dean holds up a hand and grins, unable to stop laughing, "You're just - you're really into that book, huh?"

The other man squints a little bit at Dean, sizing him up, "It's..." He purses his lips and looks back down at the book for a moment, "Infuriating." 

This time it's Dean who makes the indignant noise, " _Hey!_ " 

He pouts a little and tries to cover up the fact that his feelings are actually a little hurt, "I mean dude's not, like, Vonnegut or something, but it's pretty good..." Dean looks down at his hands and mumbles a little petulantly, "For, like... a book." 

The man snorts, "First of all, Vonnegut was a hack. He's arguably the most overrated -" 

Dean snaps his head up to glare at the man, openly gaping, "WHAT THE FUCK YOU ASSHOLE, TAKE THAT BACK!" 

A mother somewhere behind them gasps and covers her son's ears. It's cliche and so completely indicative of where they're flying that it almost makes Dean's eyes roll.

"With all due respect," the man closes his book and leans forward in his seat closer to Dean, "I'm not going to take it back. He has some good stuff but he is not as good as everyone is led to believe. Him, Kerouac, Burroughs, Wolfe, Bukowski, Hemingway - all reasonably talented writers. Nowhere near as good as every english teacher in the country is told to teach." 

This guy just named some of Dean's favorite writers. His inspirations. Vonnegut is the reason Dean ever tried writing in the first place. He almost cried when one of the first reviews of his book compared it to  _Slaughterhouse-Five_.

"Dude," Dean flounders for what to say for a moment, "You - you - did you have no childhood?" He's so genuinely offended he's not really sure what to do with himself, "Were you not hugged enough growing up?" He looks down at his feet for a moment with wide eyes and a dismayed look on his face, "How do you - how do you hate Bukowski? Vonnegut?  _ **Kerouac**_?  _On The Road_  was such a monumental piece of literature!" 

The other man snorts derisively and rolls his eyes, "Great, the literary equivalent of a dudebro. Let me guess, you started reading them to impress girls and accidentally started to like them?" 

Dean squawks a little before scowling and grabbing his bag, standing up, "Dude, fuck off. Come back when you learn how to  _ **respect**_  talent." 

He storms off in a huff, mumbling petulantly to himself about dickbag airport guys with pretty eyes and stupid sex hair. Needless to say the guy manning the bar is  _not_  impressed with Dean's sulking and bruised ego.

* * *

The funny thing about airport terminals? There's only so many places you can go before you have to leave the terminal. And if you're like Dean, flying out to Kansas for your brother's wedding, you don't have the option of leaving the terminal without missing your flight. 

So he hides out in the back corner of some shitty bar until he hears his flight number being called. He pulls a hoodie out of his backpack and yanks it on grumpily before pulling the hood up and going over to his gate. 

Luckily, Stupid Fucking Asshole Guy (Dean's name for him) from earlier isn't anywhere in sight so he relaxes a little bit as he lets the stewardess scan his ticket.

He smiles and keeps his head down, hoping that between the hood and his glasses, nobody will recognize him. 

The xanax Charlie had given him before he left their apartment was doing its job and keeping Dean mostly calm but the whole thing with the guy earlier kinda threw whatever good mood he'd created out of whack. 

And because he's Dean Winchester and this is his life,  _of course_  Stupid Fucking Asshole Guy is sitting in the seat next to Dean's. Of fucking course. 

They stare at each other for a moment, neither one of them sure what to say, before Dean gives him a tight smile and shoves his backpack up into the overhead compartment. He manages to flop down in his seat without incident (and he's really happy all of a sudden that Sam sprung for first class so he's not basically sitting in Stupid Fucking Asshole Guy's lap) and pulls out his phone to tell his mom and Sam that he's on the plane. 

> On plane. Sitting next to a giant dick but at least I'm on the flight. D  
>  **See you soon, bug!! - Mom**  
>  _Congrats on not chickening out, jerk. See you in 5. - Sam_

"So I'm a giant dick?" The deep voice sitting next to him asks and Dean turns his head to narrow his eyes at the guy. 

"Yeah, you are," he replies shortly, like he's daring the dude to challenge him. "You got a problem with that, buddy?" 

Much to Dean's dismay the dude snorts and rests back in his seat, "No, no, it's fine. Just not used to people taking literary criticisms so personally." 

Dean refuses to acknowledge the fact that he can feel how much he's blushing and he glares at the guy to try and prove as much, "Guess I'm not used to hearing random unqualified dudes in airport terminals rip apart personal heroes of mine like they're at all qualified to determine what's good and what's shit." 

The other man smirks a little and holds up a hand to Dean, indicating him to wait a moment while he searches through his wallet. After a moment he hands over a business card.

          _Professor Castiel J. Novak_  
 _Department Head of American Literature_  
 _Columbia University, New York, NY_

"You're right," the man (Castiel, apparently) says with a heavy dose of sarcasm in his voice, "I am absolutely unqualified to discuss the quality of 'great' -" he does air quotes around the word 'great' and Dean wants to strangle him "- American literature. I'm sure the four PHD's I have as well as the dissertations I've written on most of the men I named were simply just meaningless pieces of paper."

Dean looks at the card one more time, deciding to ignore how unimpressed and amused the other man looks, before squinting at Castiel, "Why do you have a  _business card_? Since when do professors need to carry a business card?" 

Apparently it's Castiel's turn to blush as he snatches the card back from Dean, "I'm going to a conference. The university president thought it would be an interesting and memorable way to get my name out there." 

"Ah," Dean grins a little bit (mostly to himself) and nods, "Been there." 

Thankfully the flight attendant interrupts them with the whole safety and seatbelt spiel that Dean promptly puts his iPod on to block out.

* * *

Take off, landing and turbulence are the three things that Dean handles the worst when it comes to flying.

Today the take off had been manageable but it appeared to be the rough patch of turbulence that they hit an hour into the flight that was going to be Dean's undoing today. 

He's been white-knuckling the armrests for the last twenty minutes with his eyes squeezed shut. He knows that he's sweating and about as pale as a sheet and probably visibly shaking but he's too freaked out to care.

Plus, his iPod died like, ten minutes before all of this started.

Seriously, fuck iPods. 

"So," Castiel clears his throat and eyes Dean cooly, not a trace of concern or distress on his face, "You never told me your name." 

Dean turns his head to stare at the other guy with wide, panicked eyes, like he's appalled that Castiel would have the gall to try and start a conversation at a time when they were clearly about to die.

His voice jumps up into a slightly squeaky register when he answers, "Dean." 

"Nice to meet you, Dean," Castiel sounds sincere as he smiles. "Since you take your 'classic' -" he does the finger quotes again "- literature so seriously, may I ask, have you read this book?" 

He holds up the book in his lap,  _Dean's book_ , and Dean fights the urge to laugh. Yes, he's read it. Like, three hundred times (and he wishes that were an exaggeration). 

"Uh," he clears his throat, "Yeah. Like... once or twice." 

Castiel lets out a breath and turns in his seat to face Dean, "Good, maybe you can explain to me what the hell the author is trying to get at here. Because I know a lot about literature and I am very good at reading literature clearly but I am lost." 

Dean makes a strangled squawking noise, "You -  _how??_ " He wants to scream 'I LITERALLY SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU' but he's pretty sure the mom with a baby sitting in the first row of coach wouldn't appreciate that.

The other man scrunches his face up, "The novel is clearly a satirical take on an idyllic suburban childhood but the characters don't really fit in to this world that the author has created. I mean, if this is supposed to be a metaphor for or a commentary on the average American family in the 21st century, why are the characters so fucking  _ **perfect**_?" 

Dean blinks a little bit, forgetting his terror as he tries to process what Castiel is saying, "So... wait."

He squints at the man next to him, "Let me get this straight. You think the book is a satirical commentary on the American family in today's world and what's wrong with it?"

This time he doesn't stop himself from laughing as he rubs a hand over his face, "You know, I have to ask - is there a class or something in literature teacher school on this stuff? Reading more into texts than there is to read into?" 

Castiel looks equal parts confused and affronted, "I can assure you that no such class exists. And do you disagree with what I said?" 

Dean arches an eyebrow at him, "Is it still just 'disagreeing' if I know for a fact that you're so wrong it's actually kind of impressive?" 

He scowls and looks like he's resisting the urge to cross his arms petulantly, "Well, thankfully you didn't write the book so there's no way you can know for a fact what the author meant." 

A slow grin spreads over Dean's face, "You don't really stop to read the cover page or anything like that, do you, Cas?" 

He steals the book from Castiel's hand and flips to the second to last page of the book where there's a picture of him, Sam and his mom that his editor insisted on using. Dean hands it back to Castiel with a smug smirk and crosses his own arms over his chest.

To his credit, Castiel does look mortified to the point of blushing up to the tips of his ears. 

When he finally looks up at Dean again, smiling sheepishly, he's still pretty red. It's kind of adorable. "I..." Cas clears his throat a little bit, "I'm sorry, Dean. I - sincerely, I am actually enjoying your book." 

Because he's kind of an asshole, and his ego may still be a little bit bruised from earlier (plus the two bad reviews that came out today), Dean snorts. "To be honest, Cas, if I hadn't seen it in your hands, I would've guessed you haven't read it from the way you're talking about it." 

Castiel, again, looks more than slightly offended, "Well, if you wanted the message to be clearer you should have written it better."

Dean narrows his eyes at the other man for a moment before sighing, "Dude, it's written from the point of view of the oldest kid. The other characters are described and written entirely from his point of view. That's why the family members are so 'fucking perfect' until they're not and that's why the other characters are so over-the-top awful. When you're a kid there's not really a gray area with good and bad people. It's just your parents are superheroes, your little siblings are cool because you think they're like your slaves or something and the assholes in life are evil dragons waiting to be slayed. That simple." 

Castiel still looks lost so Dean sighs again and turns in his seat to face him, "How far are you into it?" 

"Um," he looks down at the book to double check, "Two chapters away from the end." 

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, first of all, hold off your criticism of it until you've read the whole thing, okay? Second of all, stop trying to read so much into it, Cas, and it will make more sense."

Castiel frowns at him, "I don't understand. So much of it's written in metaphors and -" 

He levels Cas with a blank stare, "Dude. I'm flattered you think I'm trying to delve into the psyche of all this bullshit, truly I am, but trust me when I tell you that I am not smart enough for that." 

Dean sits back in his seat and stands up to grab his laptop, forgetting about the turbulence completely, "Tell you what. Why don't you finish that and when you're done, if you have any questions, comments, or complaints, I will listen and then either tell you to go fuck yourself or answer them to the best of my abilities." 

He sits down in his seat again and grins at the dazed look on the professor's face, "Seem fair?" 

Castiel snaps himself out of it after a moment and nods quickly, "Alright."

* * *

Dean's been keeping his eyes glued to his laptop screen the entire time, trying to focus more on the song playing in his earbuds than the way that Cas is reacting next to him. 

He knows how fucked up the ending is.

The first time he let Sam or his mom read a draft, they both called him sobbing when they read the last chapter. Sometimes he wonders if he's kind of an asshole for being amused by just how upset people get over the end of it.

In the seat next to him, Castiel flips clumsily to the next page as his panicked eyes try to read as quickly as they can. 

"What???" Castiel whispers with wide eyes when he gets to the bottom of the second-to-last page and it turns into something close to hyperventilating, "WHAT?!" 

Now Dean's giggling and trying not to be as loud as he'd like to be.

Cas starts smacking his arm as he reads the last paragraph of the book and he's making wounded noises the whole time, like he's watching someone kick a dog. 

Dean knows when he's read the ending because Cas just lets the book fall into his lap with a numb, "Oh," noise.

He shuts his laptop, waiting patiently for the outburst he's 90% sure is coming. 

Castiel looks up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes and asks quietly, "You mean... he's... the  _whole_  time? He's just -" He flounders for a moment, "He's dead?"

"As a doornail," Dean confirms with a nod. "Entire time." 

"And..." Cas' voice cracks, "The narrator?" 

Dean nods again, trying not to smile as smugly as he wants, "Yup."

Castiel lets out a breath and rests back in his seat, clutching the book to his chest, "So, it's... it's a story told by a man on his deathbed of a childhood that he never got to have?"

"See how much easier it is to 'critically analyze' books when you're not looking for a hidden meaning in every sentence?" Dean hums with a small smile as he takes a sip from the drink the waitress dropped off a few minutes ago. 

The other man is silent for a few moments before he asks quietly, like he's scared of the answer, "And... their neighbors...?" 

"The mirror image," Dean nods, "What his childhood was really like."

"Oh god, that poor man," Castiel mumbles and closes his eyes for a moment as he moves one hand to toy with the empty cup on his tray table. 

Dean smiles down at his hands, "You know Cas, sometimes good literature isn't about the quality of the writing. I think the emotional impact it has on the reader is way more indicative of the quality of a story or a book or whatever, y'know?" 

He sits back in his seat and finishes off the glass of bourbon (what? it'll be, like, ten at night when they land, shut up), "Even a super shitty movie can move someone to tears and it won't be a super shitty movie to that person. It'll be a great movie. Just because you experience it one way doesn't make it a fact, you know. You not liking a movie or a book or a writer or something doesn't make that thing shitty, it just means you didn't like it." 

Castiel looks like his whole world has been turned upside down and it makes Dean laugh quietly to himself.

"Listen, dude, I get that it is literally your job to over-think this stuff and make your students lives harder, so they can get better at this, but sometimes there's no subtext," Dean smiles and bumps his elbow against the other man's arm. "Sometimes it's just text.

"Leo's life was shitty and he spent his entire adulthood trying to make up for it. I mean, dude, he's on his deathbed in a military hospital. If I was going for a profound metaphor type of thing, would that concept not be more original?" 

Castiel turns his head to look at Dean with an appraising look, perhaps a little impressed by what he's saying.

It makes Dean blush and squirm in his seat as he mumbles, "Shut up." 

"You're wrong, you know," Cas says after a few beats of silence. Dean raises his hackles and opens his mouth to say something but Castiel beats him to the punch.

"What you said earlier about not being smart, you're wrong. You're incredibly smart, Dean. And you're right - thinking back over the rest of the book, there were parts that were meant to tip the reader off and I didn't pick up on it because you didn't want me to yet. It's - it's a wonderfully complex and captivating book, Dean. And you're right," Castiel smiles and this time he's the one who bumps their elbows together. "I do feel like the ending had an emotional impact on me and I'll probably tell people to read it for that reason alone." 

Dean turns to the other man, arching an eyebrow at him with a shy, slightly flirty smile, "Oh yeah? That's why you'll tell them to read it? Not because I'm adorable or anything?" 

Castiel snorts and rolls his eyes, "Well Dean, as much as I agree with that sentiment, it's not as if your face graces every page of this book." 

"So you think I'm cute," Dean repeats with a triumphant grin. "I'm glad you listened to me earlier in the terminal." 

The other man frowns, confused.

Dean's grin just grows, "When I said come back when you learn to respect talent. You came back and now, you respect talent." 

"Having a symmetrical face and good genetics is not a talent, Dean," Cas deadpans with a small smirk.

"Says you," he mumbles before sticking his tongue out at the other man.

* * *

They spend the rest of the flight discussing and debating the merits of authors like Vonnegut and Kerouac.

Dean admits sheepishly that  _On the Road_  is important to him because his mom was reading it when she was pregnant with him and she kinda sorta named him after Dean Moriarty. 

Castiel admits that he resents most of the authors he named because he was forced to read them as an undergrad and he'd never found them to be that interesting.

Dean tries not to take it so personally when Cas calls  _Slaughterhouse-Five_  "okay." (He fails but this time he just pokes Cas and tickles him until he admits that it's not only good but "pretty fucking awesome.")

They talk so much that Dean doesn't even realize they've landed until he hears everyone around them get up and start getting their stuff from the overhead bins. 

He blushes and smiles nervously at Cas as he brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, "Ah..." 

Castiel is blushing too and he smiles shyly as he nods, "Yes, we should, um..." 

They stare at each other for a moment before laughing nervously as they stand up to gather their things. They take advantage of the cramped quarters and stand closer than necessary while they wait to be let off the plane.

When they make it out of the walkway and into the gate, they both silently head off to the side of the crowd.

Dean stares at Cas and tries to ignore the butterflies he's feeling, "So..."

Castiel smiles and nods, teasing a little, "If I hadn't spent the last three hours talking to you, I would never have guessed you wrote such an eloquent book, Dean." 

He blushes up to the tips of his ears and chuckles, "Thanks, I think." 

His phone buzzes with a missed call from his mom and he sighs as he looks up at Cas again, "I should..." 

Castiel nods, the smile on his face gone after a moment, "Right, yes, of course. Your mother and brother are probably waiting for you in baggage claim. I don't think you should keep them waiting." 

Dean nods and starts to walk after a beat and before he can talk himself out of it, he grabs Cas' arm and pulls him along.

Instead of protesting, the other man just smiles and arches an eyebrow at Dean.

He blushes, "Shut up. There's only one way out of this place and you're going that way with or without me. Might as well walk together." 

Castiel nods in lieu of saying anything and instead slips his hand into Dean's, twining their fingers together.

They walk to the train silently, occasionally bumping shoulders. There's so many people at the airport and Dean isn't sure if the way his heart is beating is because of all the strangers bumping into him or the stranger standing next to him that's holding his hand. 

When the train pulls up, Cas pulls Dean over to the bench at the back and sits down next to him.

It's comfortable, easy, and familiar and Dean feels a small ache starting to form when he remembers that Cas probably doesn't even want to see him again. The thought gets pushed out of his head when Castiel squeezes his hand gently and offers him a small smile. 

His heart may or may not skip at least two beats. 

Dean leaps up when the train stops and he barely remembers to wait for Cas before getting out.

The escalator going up to the baggage claim is cramped and awful and there's a sneezing kid two inches in front of him and a lady with some green stuff on her shirt to his right and he grips Cas' hand like it's the only thing anchoring him to the ground without meaning to. 

Because it's late and TSA is a fickle son of a bitch, there's nobody waiting at the receiving area at the top of the escalator. 

Dean takes that as a sign and sighs as they step off and move out of the way of the crowds, again. 

He turns around and opens his mouth to say something but Cas beats him to the punch by pulling Dean into a kiss.

It's tentative - chaste, even - and it makes Dean's heart skip, like, three whole beats. 

They only pull back when someone clears their throats (seriously TSA, what the fuck). They're both blushing and out of breath and Dean laughs nervously, trying to think of what to say.

His phone interrupts him though, playing Sam's ringtone loudly, and they both flinch.

"You should," Castiel clears his throat a little, "You should get that."

Dean nods and answers the phone without thinking, his heartbeat racing more when he sees that Cas is still holding the book in his hands.

He turns and starts walking towards baggage claim without so much as a goodbye, "Yeah Sammy, I'm coming, keep your pants on... dude, shut the fuck up, mom's fine... yeah, see dude? She's fine. Stop being a baby." 

Castiel watches Dean go with a lost puppy look on his face and he sighs before turning around to head to the rental car area. He only brought his backpack with him since the conference was casual and didn't require him to bring a suit. 

After he rents a car and he finds it in the parking lot, he sighs and gets into the front seat. He's moping and he knows it but he  _really_  liked Dean and - well, he thought Dean really liked him too. 

"Fucking pretty authors," Castiel grumbles petulantly as he accidentally tosses the book onto the passenger seat instead of his backpack.

A napkin from the plane floats out of it and onto the floor.

Castiel frowns and leans over to grab it.

>           _Cas -_

"Oh," he says quietly. It's a note from Dean. 

>           _You're in the bathroom right now and knowing me I'm probably going to chicken out on this later so, um. Here's my number. If you're not doing anything this Sunday, Sammy's getting married and I - well, I need a date._ _Just for the record, by the way, you're still a dick. But I'd like to get to know you._  
>  _\- D :)_

He feels a big dopey grin split across his face as he pulls out his phone to send Dean a quick text.

> **There's a panel this Sunday but I'd be wiling to ditch it if it means I get to remind you how awful Vonnegut is. - Castiel**   
>  _I'm going to assume by your awful taste in literature that this is Castiel. D_   
>  _First of all, if that means you can come to the wedding, awesome! :) D_   
>  _Second of all, fuck you. D_

Castiel laughs louder than he probably should and he feels his heart thudding in his chest like it's trying to find a way to burst out.

> **Buy me dinner first. - Castiel**   
>  _Does the food at the wedding count? D_   
>  _Because I did help pay for it. D_   
>  **Of course, Leo. - Castiel**   
>  **I mean Dean ;) - Castiel**

It takes Dean a whole five minutes to respond.

> _You saw my dog tags, huh? D_   
>  **Yes. - Castiel**   
>  _Well... I guess that makes you Cole. D_   
>  **I suppose it does. - Castiel**   
>  _Cool. Cause this time, I'm pretty sure everything won't end as badly. D_

Castiel blushes, smiling at his phone dumbly.

> _I'll call you tomorrow morning with the details, Cas. D  
>  Oh, and I really liked kissing you by the way. D  
> Even if you are a dick. D_
> 
>  
> 
>  

* * *

 

         (the end of the book)

> Cole laughed quietly, a sad sound, and ran a hand through his hair, "Is that really what your life was like?"
> 
> "Nah," Leo managed to get out. It was getting harder and harder to talk with the oxygen mask on. They both knew what that meant but they refused to acknowledge it. "Always wished that's what it was like... maybe... wouldn't be here if it had." 
> 
> Neither one of them really knows what to say. Leo's breathing was getting shallower, the heartbeat on the monitor slowing down.
> 
> "Well," Cole muttered quietly, "For what it's worth, in the real world... I'm - I'm glad you're here. If nothing else, I - I got to meet you." 
> 
> "Yeah," the man on the bed whispered with a small smile, his voice strained. "Guess that was pretty cool." 
> 
> Leo's eyes slipped closed slowly as he started to fall asleep.
> 
> "Listen," Cole moved reluctantly to set a hand on top of his best friend's, "I... I know that you'd kick my ass for saying this. But... you are the best thing that ever happened to me. And not just because you've saved my life more times than I can count." 
> 
> The other man's breathing was getting more shallow and his breaths were farther apart. Cole felt like he might throw up.
> 
> "I love you." His voice cracked as he started to cry, "I'm sorry I never got to tell you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the life that you deserve." 
> 
> The heart monitor in the background flatlined.
> 
> "Goodbye."

**Author's Note:**

> a note on dean's book: I only have a vague idea of what the book is supposed to be (I did write this at like midnight) but what I was trying to communicate is this --
> 
> \- Dean roughly based the book on his life growing up.  
>  \- John died when Dean was very young.  
>  \- The book is told from the perspective of a thirteen year old boy that doesn't exist. The whole thing is being made up by Leo while he's in the hospital.  
>  \- There are two families that are the main focus of the book; one is the perfect idyllic family that the narrator belongs to (think Leave it to Beaver) and the other one is a twisted and more tragic family than Dean's life with his mom and Sam growing up. The second family is supposed to be a representation of Leo's life and the book is a comparison of Leo's idea of a perfect life and his real life.  
>  \- Dean is a veteran in this fic and the idea in my head was that he wrote part of this book while he was deployed and another part while he was in the hospital himself.  
>  \- Dean wears his dog tags around his neck and they say "D. Leo Winchester."  
>  \- Cole is Leo's best friend. They met at basic training and they fought in the war together.  
>  \- Leo was hurt trying to save Cole's life.  
>  \- Dean's style very much lines up with his favorite authors.
> 
> and for my own sanity I do feel the need to clarify that I actually hated _On the Road_. kerouac should've used like, sixteen editors.


End file.
